


Dragons and Hearts and Flowers (An Inkling of Your Heart Remix)

by IreneADonovan



Series: Remixes 2018 [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles in a Wheelchair, Florists, M/M, Smitten Erik, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 19:17:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15274470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan
Summary: Erik owns a flower shop. Charles is a tattoo artist...





	Dragons and Hearts and Flowers (An Inkling of Your Heart Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chekov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chekov/gifts).
  * Inspired by [An Inkling of Your Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7466247) by [mutanitys (chekov)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chekov/pseuds/mutanitys). 
  * In response to a prompt by [chekov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chekov/pseuds/chekov) in the [xmen_remix_madness2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmen_remix_madness2018) collection. 



Erik Lehnsherr knew he wasn't what people expected when they entered his florist's shop, but frankly he didn't give two flying fucks. Arranging flowers brought him a pleasure he'd never experienced in ten years as a lawyer.

He was deep in designing an arrangement of spring flowers for a wedding the next afternoon when the door chimes jingled.

He didn't look up. His assistant, Emma, would get it. That was what he paid her for.

The chimes kept jingling, and Erik looked up in annoyance. Where was Emma? Oh, yeah, lunch. Fuck.

Erik's gaze fixed on the door. A man in a wheelchair was wrestling his way inside. Erik had never really realized how tough that door was to open. He started out from behind the counter, but the man shook his head and pushed himself the rest of the way inside.

The man was gorgeous. Hair in shades of chocolate and russet and amber, falling in loose waves nearly to his shoulders. Plump lips the color of the Blaze roses climbing the trellis outside the shop door. Eyes the shade of the Blue Heaven hydrangeas in his backyard.

But it was the tattoo that peeked out of the open vee of his polo shirt that truly arrested his attention. A dragon, exquisitely wrought even to Erik's untrained eye, the tip of its snout visible along his right collarbone, a claw curling delicately over the left.

Erik tried, unsuccessfully, not to stare.

The man wheeled toward him, cleared his throat.

Hunh? Oh, right. “Can I help you?”

“I was wondering if you had any blue roses?” The man's voice was rich and resonant, with a posh British accent.

He did, though he didn't care much for them. Still, enough people did that he kept a few in stock. “There aren't any true blue roses. There are dyed white ones, and there are ones called 'blue' that are really more a pale lilac. I have both. Which would you like?”

The man sighed. “She didn't say.”

Erik's heart sank a little – hot guy was both taken and straight. “Would you like a mixed bouquet.” It would look like crap, but if that's what the guy wanted--

“I just need two or three of each. My client wants blue roses, but she neglected to bring a picture. I'm a tattoo artist – my studio's down the street.”

That explained the man's ink. Erik knew the shop; it looked upscale, classy. “I've been by it.”

“But never in it.” The man's voice was full of warm humor. “I take it tattoos aren't your thing.”

“I'm Jewish. My mom would kill me if I got any tattoos.”

“Well, we can't have that.”

There were a lot of things Erik couldn't have, including, probably, this devastating man. “I'll get your flowers.

He hurried into the back, selected three Blue Moon roses and three dyed Honor roses, boxed them up together, took them out and handed them to the man. “You know, you could have just got the reference photos off the net.”

“I was in the mood for a personal touch.” The man flashed him a heart-stopping grin and handed Erik a credit card. His name was Charles Xavier.

“Thank you,” Charles said as he turned to leave. “It's been a pleasure.”

“The pleasure was mine,” Erik said, actually meaning it.

~xXx~

Three days later, Charles returned for peonies. Two days after that, for violets. Two days after that, he showed up with coffee and doughnuts.

“Are you courting me?” Erik teased.

“Do you want me to?”

Erik blushed the shade of a Chrysler Imperial rose.

Charles kept dropping by. In the mornings with coffee. At lunch with pizza. At closing, just to shoot the breeze.

“Don't you have a business to run?” Erik asked, half-serious.

“My sister manages it, handles the day-to-day. As long as I keep my appointments and stay close in case there's a walk-in who wants only me, the rest of my time is mine.”

“How did you get into this line of work, anyway? Forgive me, but you don't seem the type.”

Charles chuckled. “I'm not.”

“So how?”

Charles got a faraway look in his eyes for a moment, then he pulled himself back and began to speak. “I was in a rather horrific automobile accident almost a dozen years ago. I was left with scars all over my body, especially on my back and my legs, and I hated, just hated, the way they looked. It was hard enough that I was never going to walk again; the scars just added insult to injury.

“My sister's boyfriend, now her husband, this big Russian guy, suggested I look into tattooing to help disguise the scars. I was pretty dubious, but he looked up 'cosmetic tattooing for scars' and showed me. I was pretty impressed. I did some research, found an artist I felt comfortable with, set up a consultation.

“She said some of my scars could indeed be blended in with my skin, but not all of them. The others, though, could be camouflaged with more traditional tattoos. The dragon is her work; it covers most of my back.

“After a while, I found I wanted to do for others what she had done for me. She agreed to take me on as an apprentice, then three years ago, I opened my own shop. I do some illustration, but mostly I do what was done for me.”

“I've only seen the bits along your collarbone,” Erik said, “and they're beautiful. I'd love to see more if you'll let me.”

Charles stared deep into his eyes, then nodded. “All right.” He grasped the hem of his shirt, stripped it off over his head in one smooth motion.

His upper body was as gorgeous as his face. He was slim, with well-defined muscles and a _lot_ of freckles.

The dragon's head covered much of his right shoulder and upper chest, while one delicately-wrought claw wrapped around his waist, the talons arching around his navel.

Charles gave Erik a minute to look, then he leaned forward and braced his forearms on his thighs, offering his back.

Erik rose, circled behind him, let out a low whistle of appreciation.

The dragon's body covered almost the entirety of Charles' back, finely detailed, poised for flight, looking as if it could spread its wings and take to the sky, carrying Charles with it. If he looked close, he could see traces of the scars, but only because he was looking for them.

The dragon's lower body disappeared below the waistband of Charles' trousers. Lucky dragon.

Charles sat back up, looked into Erik's eyes.

“It's beautiful,” Erik said. “You're beautiful. And I'd really like to see the rest.”

“Not on the first date,” Charles quipped.

“This isn't our first date.”

Charles smiled. “Then your place or mine?”

“Yours. Mine's a walk-up.”

“Not our first date,” Charles mock-groused. “Then why haven't you kissed me?”

“Let me fix that now.” Erik came around to the front of Charles' chair, cupped his chin, tilted his head up, covered those Blaze-red lips with his own.

When they came up for air, Charles grinned and said, “I know you don't do tattoos, but did you know there are other ways to leave a mark?”

Erik grinned back. “Why don't you demonstrate.”

And Charles did.


End file.
